


Folie à Trois

by Satan In Purple (purple_satan)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: 2016 Reylux Fic Exchange, Ambiguously Mentioned Character Death - Not Hux, Angst and Smut... Smangst?, Apprentice Knight of Ren Rey, Ben Solo Fucked Shit Up, Consequences to Actions, F/M, Grand Admiral Hux AU, He Probably Meant Well Though, Hux in White, I Write Sins and Tragedies Not Fluff, If This Makes You Feel Uneasy I Did My Job, Light Bondage, Lots of Moral Ambiguity, Luke is Not Exactly a Good Guy™, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Should I Tag BDSM? Idk, Writer Has Found New Reserves to Furiously Ignore Canon, Written under the influence of Patron, mindfuckery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-07-28 17:25:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7649818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purple_satan/pseuds/Satan%20In%20Purple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Folie à Trois</i>, a madness shared by three.</p><p>Rey is tired of waiting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien

**Author's Note:**

  * For [firelord65](https://archiveofourown.org/users/firelord65/gifts), [kasa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kasa/gifts).



> Many thanks to all the Reylux fam for everything they do, but especially to the following people: [Juulna](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Juulna/pseuds/Meaghan%20M) for inspo and initial setup of this fic, [Alania](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Alania/pseuds/Alania) for literally making this fic happen by not letting me give up when I almost did, and [ms_qualia](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ms_qualia/pseuds/ms_qualia) for the beta read and content discussion. You three made this see the light of day <3
> 
> Also to who I got prompts from, I am so sorry I barely filled them. My muse went on a tangent. But I am gonna give you four or more chapters so ?¿?

 

\--

 

 

Hux is the first to find her, a flurry of red and white cape sweeping behind him. Walking briskly into the training room, he overrides the lock on the door, stepping over the mangled pieces of dueling droids strewn about the floor.

“I need, I need,” Rey pants, disregarding Hux’s arrival to hack away at the droid in front of her. Words come through, jagged bits and pieces. She violently pushes them towards Kylo, towards the blurred feeling of his force signature floors away.

 _Something. Hollow. Help. Empty. Need._ She projects loud enough Kylo could hear her a whole system away were he not aboard the _Finalizer_ , ignoring her.

_Hungry._

She bares her teeth, her purple blade coming down in a brutal arc, no form or finesse behind it. Another piece of machinery falls, sputtering in a shower of sparks. More nameless faces come to her as she rages. She growls and takes her saber to the walls of the room, slashing them until her arms burn.

Kylo still doesn’t answer her.

Finally exhausted, she turns to Hux.

She’s panting, limply holding her ignited saber in one hand. As he opens his arms, she lets the weapon slip through sweaty fingers and drop, clattering as it spits purple plasma on the duracrete floor. Looking up at him through dark lashes that have clumped together in little bunches, she knows he sees the sweat and tears mixed on her cheeks. She shuffles towards his outstretched arms anyway.

A voice in the back of her head says she should pick up her saber and run him through. This man in front of her, red and white and righteous fury, looking like ice and spitting fire when he speaks. A man who has eaten stars with the maw of a giant machine, devoured them whole to conquer the galaxy for ideals she still isn’t even sure she believes in. A man cloaked in so much destruction it swirls around his aura like a ghastly fog, until red and white and shiny black boots are obscured, blurring before her.

The monster, _The Starkiller._

And yet, he is other things to her.

So she does not.

They stand there for a moment, him holding her awkwardly until she stiffens in his arms. “Come,” he instructs, the pink bow of his pursed lips relaxing minutely when he meets her eyes.

He gives her a concerned look as he steers her to his quarters before she falls apart. The pale sea glass of his eyes is stormy. He places a protective hand on the small of her back like a talisman. Something to ward away the miasma of death that clings tightly to them both, threatening to bring her to her knees. Making their way slowly through the halls of the ship, their steps in perfect synchronicity, he guides and she lets him.

Something in her gut drops, as she feels _him_ before they open the door. Inside Hux’s quarters. He’s finally there. Her master, her other captor that keeps her in this gilded cage moving along in space.

_Is this why they made her wait?_

She shoots Hux a look that promises retribution.

Kylo’s already stripped himself of his black knight’s garb, his inky hair out of his helmet and down. It’s a dark halo of curls and waves spilling across his forehead, the stark white of the pillowcase. Content to sprawl on Hux’s bed like a huge, lazy cat, he shows off his large back. His body is pale in the wan lighting of the viewports in Hux’s room, a vast canvas of milky white skin liberally dotted with constellations of moles and freckles both she and Hux have mapped with lips and fingertips on many occasions.

She follows the marks down to the spidery webbing of scar tissue on his side that seems so familiar to her. She wants to touch the pillowy discolored skin, trace her fingers across the story of violence written in the crisscrossed ropey scars that cover him.

He grunts in acknowledgement, dark lashes fluttering against his cheeks as he closes his eyes. His long fingers are flexing in the sheets, curling then unfurling again rhythmically the closer she gets. He breathes deep and even. Centered. The way she imagines he was trained as a child, as she might have been trained in another life.

Hux comes from behind her, placing the rope in her empty and upturned hands, like benediction. The length of it is deep crimson, the color of spilt blood and the texture slippery against her palms. He begins methodically divesting himself of his uniform as she admires his gift, hanging his cape so it doesn’t wrinkle the white synthsilk. She looks up from her hands as he tugs off his gloves, each finger of the black leather pulled between his teeth. His pale eyes bore into her own as he unfastens his tunic collar, baring the pale column of his neck, a small smile unfurling on his pink lips.

His rare smiles are a secret, just for her.

Rey watches him, eyes rapt, mouth slightly parted. She wants to lean in and lick him and his sunshine brightness gently, like swallowing the sun. 

She doesn’t.

Instead, she rubs the silken rope between her fingers, testing the strength and quality. It's exquisite, only the best money can buy. It will hold well for what she has planned. The intricate knots, the ties, the painstaking detail. She will creates the latticework that will bind them together as three. Immobilize them so she’s the one in complete control.

Kylo lets out a quiet whine behind them.

She can feel his arousal coming off him in waves, the way he’s pushing his hips into the mattress wantonly as she projects her thoughts to him. Hux gives them an unreadable look as he removes each article of clothing slowly, hanging his white tunic. The new rank bars of grand admiral on it glint like twin knife blades in the starlight.

_Too slow._

“More,” Kylo tells them.

Rey leans over, one knee on the bed as she runs a fingernail along one of his scars. Presses it down so scores flesh.

“Hurt me.”

He doesn't specify who.

Rey wraps the rope around his wrist, nimble fingers securing it in place, tying the first knot. She looks at Hux questioningly as Kylo stills on the bed. He's taking off his shiny jackboots, nodding his head in assent.

She ties another knot.

And another.

A pattern emerges, the three of them picking up the jagged little pieces they each have together.

 

\--

 

 

_\-- her sunken cheeks when they found her on a backwater Outer Rim planet broken, her new bird-like fragility. How pleased he is that she goes willingly aboard the Finalizer, that it was her choice, even though her head is lolling against Hux’s shoulder, voice a low murmur as she tells him about how she misses space._

_The parallel to her first time aboard the ship is not lost, as she watches herself being bridal-carried across the hangar, this time by Hux, through Kylo’s memories --_

 

_\--_

 

 

When they found her everything was not okay. When they found her she was not herself.

Hux calls it _force-touched_ , her condition. The way she loses days, forgets where she was and where she is, details about who they are. The way it comes in bits and pieces, what was took from her, what’s been lost. How even then it sometimes slips through her fingers like Jakku sand. How every time the memory of Luke’s betrayal, Ben’s betrayal, is fresh. A new wound to her already bleeding heart, her already damaged psyche.

Some days she has to be reminded she isn’t a prisoner, that they rescued her from herself. Other days she stares through the viewport in Hux’s room at the vastness of space and tries not to hate him.

It’s not entirely unkind, the way he treats her. Like his own personal curiosity. Something fragile, easily broken further. Something he might mend one day with gold filigree along its cracks, but only if he deigns to.

Some days it’s good enough she forgets the bad things and only remembers the good. Sometimes she is able to forget the slithering whisper in her head, the sibilant words that crawl around and haunt her, like the faces, like the force, the jagged edges of incomplete memories she cuts herself on when she strains too hard to remember. Some days she’s able to forget the ever-present choking darkness that shrouds the _Finalize_ _r_ , its shadowy master that beckons her to bow down before it in supplication she still has yet to have met.

Her mind has been so addled by the force not every day is a good day, but some days are better.

Today Rey woke up to Kylo’s lips on her shoulder, Hux’s hand resting between her thighs. The three of them entwined, exhausted from the night’s events. The crimson rope still coiled like a serpent ready to strike near the foot of the bed. She nudges it with her toe. It falls off the side, hissing as it rasps against the sheets in its descent to the floor.

Kylo curls closer to her, pressing his chest against her and she feels his cock stir, hardening against the small of her back. Hux’s eyes crack open, his grip on her thigh tightens momentarily as he begins to knead the flesh. His fingers slowly work their way up to her center, rubbing circles against her clit. He kisses Kylo’s shoulder, Rey’s collarbone.

Then he’s pressing fingers inside of her, curling them just so, creating sparks of pleasure. She remembers their names, reciting them in her head in between gasps. Their ranks. Where she is.

_Kylo Ren, master of the Knights of Ren. Brendol Armitage Hux II, Grand Admiral of the Finalizer._

_Rey. Sometimes apprentice. Always curiosity. Beloved of both._

Hux takes his wet fingers out of her cunt, slicks Kylo’s cock with her fluids and guides him into her. Kylo’s arm tightens around her midsection as he pushes into her easily, teeth set into her shoulder. Hux’s eyes are hooded. He rubs her clit again until she clenches around Kylo, keens for them both, the two of them kissing her and each other as she comes down from her climax.

They don't get out of bed for another couple hours, both men lavishing her with far more attention than she remembers them doing in the past or ever deserving, but she’ll take it. Take whatever they will give her. More.

A good day, then.

 

\--

 

 

Today she asks for her master and is reminded that Kylo is away on a mission.

She curls inwards on herself and doesn’t leave Hux’s bed, except to use the fresher. She pets Millicent, absently watches the stars twinkle in and out through the thick transparisteel viewports in his room, and waits.

 

\--

 

 

“Ahch-To,” she says suddenly, a memory of something lost now gained. Of blue and green, jagged rocks like terrible teeth piercing the clouds in the sky. A man on a cliff. Something given and taken away. Little pieces of her memory fitting together under her fingers she traces on the tiles of the shower wall.

She dreams of a world she’s never been to, green and blue-bottle glass through wisps of clouds the color of Hux’s eyes, islands and oceans repeating over and over in her head like a mantra as he ushers her into the shower. Rey closes her eyes under the spray and thinks of water everywhere. Torrents of it flooding the loamy soil and washing everything away, as he runs a washcloth over her bare skin, humming softly.

Today is one of the kinds of days where Hux coaxes her to eat, brushes her hair, bathes her. Remakes her with gold in each gentle touch. She doesn’t know how he acquired the skill set to take care of her, never asks. Nor does she know where he finds the time.

She loses track of how long she’s there thinking a world she _knows_ but doesn’t know, that she startles when she realizes he’s done washing and now behind her. His body is pressed entirely against hers, crowding her as he rests his chin on her shoulder, his freckled arms loosely around her midsection. It’s disorienting for a moment until she realizes she likes the feeling of him in her space. It feels familiar.

She repeats herself in case he didn’t hear her the first time.

“Pardon?”

“What’s Ahch-To? Why do I keep dreaming about it?”

She turns in his arms. He frowns, brow furrowed.

“I don’t know. I’ve never heard of it.”

He runs his hands up her arms, her neck, to her hair. Slicking wet tendrils of hair back, she shivers under his touch. “It must be further out than even the Outer Rim.”

They don’t say much else as he washes her hair efficiently, fingers curling through the strands to her scalp, working in the same cleaner he uses.

"Tilt your head back," he instructs, helping her wash out the cleaner, hands cupped behind her head.

She obeys. The suds and water sluice down her body, circle the drain at their feet.

“Where do you dream of?” She asks after they are both clean. The water is already cooler, her fingers and toes pruned as she stands under the spray with him.

He hums, a thoughtful noise she can feel from his chest. “Arkanis, mostly.”

She gets a glimpse of roiling storm clouds, of rain. An estate. Green trees and gray skies. Briefly, a large man with the same red hair greying at the temples. The same eyes, a razor sharp smile.

The images stop abruptly, his mind snapping closed to her as Hux gives her a stern look.

He doesn’t elaborate.

 

\--

 

 

Today she asks for her master and is reminded that Kylo is away on a mission. Kylo has been away on a mission for some days now. _Kylo is_ _always_ _away on mission._

She’s tired of waiting.

 

\--

 

 

Because Hux is an Admiral and does have a job to do, despite her insistence, Rey finds herself waiting for Kylo’s return alone. She counts the days not in scratch marks on the wall, but in the cycles of training the stormtroopers go through she now takes keen interest in watching. She posts herself in the upper deck of the hangar, looking down and watching Captain Phasma run her troops through a series of basic commands.

Staring at the captain, Rey imagines she’s a particularly interesting bit of machinery, one she’d like to take apart. Shiny chrome and supple skin underneath. Metal, guts and bits of bone. What her worth would be in portions if she traded her, piece by piece, to Unkar Plutt.  How Phasma would feel underneath her, more human or machine. What might happen if she rocked against the other woman’s armored thigh and took, leaving sloppy wet smears and fingerprints behind on her armor, marking her as Rey’s.

She doesn't know the Captain well, but feels like she might want to. What her hair color is, what her face looks like. If she’s even human.

What her _preferences_ are.

“Your musings on the captain are--  _loud_.”  Kylo chuckles behind her.

Rey shrinks back, caught. Chastised. She’s slipping again. She didn’t feel his return to this ship this time, much less his presence in the hangar with her.

He blots out the light as he approaches, dark robes, impossible tallness. Standing in front of her, he eclipses chrome and white, her surroundings, with his looming form. He tips her chin up so that she meets his eyes in the narrow opening of his mask. Running an affectionate finger over her bottom lip, he places the gentlest kiss of leather gloves to her chapped lips.

“Are you well today?” He asks, voice a harsh crackle through the vocoder of his mask. Running his fingers feather-light over her jaw, he touches her as though she may break from his very touch, shatter into tiny discrete shards of her own design today. He’s not like Hux with her, has made it clear he doesn’t know what to do with her in those moments when she breaks, fears them. Maybe even more than she does.

“I was hoping you would be.”

Rey nods.

Today she likes the hum of the Finalizer under her feet and around her, the bustle of its thousands of officers. The promises that it means. The promise of food she doesn’t have to scavenge for until her fingers bleed. A warm bed she doesn’t have to fight to keep possession of. The promise of the heady, coppery scent of blood filling her nostrils, spilt on the training room floor until one of them yields. The promise of his velvety smooth cock, thick and hard inside of her later.

She’ll take her pleasure riding him until her thighs quiver and burn, until he begs her for his release. Begs for her to hurt him again.

No, today she does not want to leave.

Yes, today she is okay.

Kylo tilts his helmet fractionally in acknowledgement of her requests, his hand already at the pommel of his lightsaber. From under his cloak he procures her confiscated saberstaff and tosses it to her.

They move in tandem down the halls to the training rooms, before circling one another like animals.

“Then let us train. For now.”

 

\--

 

 

They don’t make it to his quarters, they don’t even fully undress. Fingers harshly fumble between parting fabrics and unhooking buttons until Kylo is finally sheathed inside of her, only their weapons discarded on the training room floor.

“I missed you too,” he mumbles, now unmasked. His face is open for her to read, eyes and lips so expressive it’s no wonder he wears a mask. He’s sucking in a shaky breath as she takes him all the way to the hilt, the feeling of him fully seated inside of her taking her breath away, as he sucks a bruise into her jaw. “I could feel you, planets away. Your desire, unfulfilled.”

She hisses through clenched teeth in reply. Her face upturned, her eyes are scrunched in concentration as she strains to keep the brutal pace that she’s set for them both.

He’s breathless, hair matted to his forehead with sweat, beneath her. Kylo’s thumbs dig into her hipbones as he helps her bounce up and down, fucking herself on his cock. He pulls her closer to his chest, but she pushes him away with the force so he’s flat on his back and she’s riding him completely. His eyes are wide when he looks up at her in disbelief, plush mouth parted so deliciously she bends over to nip at his bottom lip.

“Rey, I- I’m,” words threaten to spill from his lips he quiets, mouthing them against the skin of her jaw and neck instead.

“You don’t get to come until I tell you to,” she says sharply, panting from exertion. She wraps her fingers around his biceps as much as she can. Holds him down. Because he should have to wait for her, she’s always the one who has had to wait. “Make this last, like it’s our first time. I’ve waited for _so long._ ”

He frowns, opens his mouth. She uses the force to silence him, doesn’t want to hear his apologies for his absence.

He narrows his eyes at her, no longer bucking up into her, instead content to set a more relaxed pace. He rocks her against his hips, a constant pressure against her and inside of her. The even strokes of his cock inside of her, the friction of it beginning to make her toes tingle and radiate throughout her body.

It galls her that he fucks her like he remembers her body. That he’s allowed to remember what she likes, even if she doesn’t always remember him.

Remember.

She scrabbles for something in her mind, but her fingers come back empty and bloodied.

_Shit._

They continue but his face begins to blur as she gets closer. It shifts, the scar she gave him is now gone and she isn't sure why he had one, doesn't remember how he got it. His eyes change from the soft brown they had as he stares up at her, looking at her more sharply. He’s barely moving now, large hands cupping her face so he can stare into her eyes.

She can’t feel him in her mind, only underneath her. He doesn’t dare try peering into her mind anymore after the last time he did and ended up like her. Unlike her, he snapped out of it.

“Rey, who am I?”

_“What?”_

“Rey, this is important.”

She stares back at him defiantly, still circling her hips pressed into his. She moves her hand between them searching for her own pleasure if he won't give it to her.

It doesn’t take long, she’s waited and wanted too much.

“Ben,” she cries as she crests, moving her hands to hold his face tenderly. She brushes her thumbs over his cheekbones, breathless. Kisses his face as her thighs quiver around his and she grips him like a vice. He stills below her, body now rigid. He lets her ride out the waves of her orgasm before crushing her to his chest tightly, his own cock wilting inside her, pleasure forgotten entirely. Winding long fingers in her hair, he presses gentle kisses to the crown of her head.

“Ben, _Ben_. You came back for me.”

“I’d never leave you,” he lies.

They lay there tangled on the training room floor. A heap of entwined limbs, sweat, black fabric and regret. Clinging to each other like scared children. Unsure of what comes next.

 

\--

 

“He’s dead, Rey. He’s dead. I killed him.”

He doesn’t clarify who.

Both want to cry; neither of them do.

 

\--


	2. Ni le bien qu'on m'a fait

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to [Serenechemnerd](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Serenechemnerd) for the beta this chapter. Also [Alania](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Alania) for forever being a source of inspiration and christening this fic the antithesis of her fic _Breaking Point_. Truly I am honored to have them mentioned even in the same breath.
> 
> There is an extremely (as in one line) brief mention of attempted rape towards the end of this fic in the flashback. It is not graphic in detail, but I just want to throw that out there in case anyone gets upset.

 

 

There is no integration into the _Finalizer_ for Rey. No meeting of peers or of troops, or anyone else telling her who she reports to other than Hux.

And Hux is not the most gracious of hosts. He does not show her where to find food, how to requisition necessities. Nor does he tell her when he will return once his shift begins, just presses a hand held comm and datapad into her hands before leaving her. Alone.

She’s not a prisoner.

Not with the grand admiral’s own quarters at her disposal. The comm and datapad for entertainment. The double bed and meals the droid brings to his quarters she devours like they will disappear in front of her. Not with the fresher and its shower that is much more indulgent than a sonic, more water than she has ever had running against her body before.

He never _tells_ her she’s a prisoner. But the doors to his quarters are locked, inside and out. Keyed only for himself and Kylo. And that’s telling in its own right.

He also never tells her about the luminous green eyes peering back at her from the depths of his closet, their timid owner. Rey eventually finds out on day three.

 

\--

 

Time slows to a crawl when she’s alone, only Millicent to keep her company. She asks the droid that brings her food about Kylo, but it just reminds her that he is away on a mission. Hux sends a message to her comm he’s at the bridge, the helm of his precious ship making sure it is in perfect working order.

He won't return until the cycle is over.

On these days, where Rey is not quite there but also not blissfully gone, she curls inward and watches the drift of space through the viewport of the Hux’s quarters. Pets Millicent. Waits. Longs for something she doesn’t know the name of.

It’s not the sands of the past on Jakku, hard and gritty under her nails. The unforgiving bite of the desert and the toil that kept her moving to survive. No, she doesn’t miss that. Nor is it the calm waters she dreams about, the krayt dragon teeth spires of rocky outcrops. Green grass, tall enough to part and run her fingers through. A man, hooded, cybernetic arm shining in the sunlight. An outstretched hand holding a token, a promise.

No, not that either.

It’s not the planting of seeds and pulling of starchy vegetable roots on a faraway planet, for food and for pleasure. Work that seems all too familiar, a story. Smile of her face and sweat of her brow, digging her fingers into the planet’s wet soil. Like a trough of offal, moving dirt away like the guts of a dead animal. The planet’s lush fields bodies waiting to be vivisected by her hands, laid bare just for her.

No, now she dreams of all consuming snow she _knows_ was real. The sharp jut of tall pines in a place that no longer exists. The snapping of twigs under her feet. The _you need a teacher’s_ and _I can show you the ways of the Force’s,_ the _let me help you’s._ Pleas on endless loop until she’s not sure if he’s saying it or she is. Plasma burning lines into the snow, limbs of trees cleanly severed in their wake. The grit and determination not to fail. Two unstoppable objects careening and clashing into one another, unknowingly orbiting an unseen third.

The way he begged her that day, ground his jaw. His eyeteeth sharp, predatory, when he finally smiled bloody at her, face bisected by her blade. The hacking coughs that wracked his body, his blood painting both a sharp spray and a shallow pool of crimson in the snow. Lying there like a gutted animal, laid bare before her in want. Brazen in his need.

She dreams of Kylo Ren, always. The clash and sizzle of blades as they danced around each other. The look in his eyes as his met hers. How badly he wanted to impress her. Show her he was a teacher worthy of such a prized student.

In her dream the earth quakes, the ground rends itself apart and drops away. She cries for him as they tumble through the darkness, landing onto the training mats of the _Finalizer_ ’s sparring rooms in a sweaty, dirty, bloody heap. In such close quarters she cannot draw her staff, so she lunges at him. Teeth and nails barred as she rakes against his already broken flesh, digging fingers into fresh wounds.

He howls, throws her back against the wall with a Force push that would otherwise splinter an opponent’s bones.

 _I will never be yours, Kylo Ren._ She spits at him, bloody. _Never!_

 _You already are. Mine._ Blood drips from his mouth, coating his teeth as he eyes her viciously.

_His too._

She’s not sure who he means. He tilts his head up, she follows. Sees a flash of red above them, peering down into the room. Remembers pale eyes, lambency in their depths.

Kylo looks her square in the eyes. Laughs, as blood continues to pool around him.

_Don’t you remember?_

She’s not sure she wants to.

 

\--

 

It happens first with Hux.

Too much food and wine one night in his quarters while Kylo is gone and she finds herself curled against his lanky, freckled frame. His breath hot on the juncture of her neck as they laid there together, heartbeats thumping in their chests wildly. Her needy for something she doesn’t know the name of, has only experienced a meager handful of times, none of them particularly amazing.

He takes his time, takes her apart piece by piece as she writhes in ecstasy. Pins her with his gaze, strips down the broken shards of her psyche to inspect each one, putting them into neat little boxes with every touch, every kindness granted to her. She bares herself entirely for him and is rewarded by the pleased look in his pale eyes he grants her as he learns her inside and out. Completely and wholly.

They carry on like this for weeks uninterrupted. The doors to his quarters unlock for her. Her pain recedes as she speaks to him about her past, remembering more and more each day. In return, he meters out freedom in small morsels she devours immediately. She begins to refer to his quarters as _their_ quarters in her mind, and she begins to expect the companionship of the grand admiral.

And then Kylo returns one night, demanding Rey’s presence.

Hux’s comm crackles as Mitaka stutters out a message for him from Ren as though he is at blaster-point. He quickly throws on his white uniform and leaves Rey lounging in his bed, nude.

Sometime later she hears their voices drift from Hux’s office.

“I didn’t call for you,” Ren growls, voice changing as she hears him pull off his helmet. He drops it with a loud thunk. “Where is she?”

“Sleeping.”

“She’s awake. I can feel it.”

Hux sneers. “She’s _indisposed,_ then.”

A beat passes where no one talks and Rey wonders if it's over, then Hux finally breaks it with a groan.

“For fuck’s sake, Ren. While you were about traipsing the galaxy for possible jedi, I secured the loyalty of the one we _have_ for the Order.”

“How?” Kylo says slowly, managing to lace the single syllable with more malice than she has ever heard, the word dripping with the promise of violence. He reaches out to her, but she slams the walls of her mind closed.

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Ren. Perhaps you should ask to join if you are so concerned.”

Kylo lets out a snarl of frustration and then Rey hears the doors whoosh open, as Kylo stomps out of Hux’s office.

\--

 

Neither of them are surprised when Hux’s datapad trills a message about new damages to the ship. Nor are they when a more restrained Kylo shows up to their quarters later in the night, helmet off and in simpler clothes than his normal uniform.

The length of black rope in his hands is definitely unexpected, but not unwelcome.

 

\--

 

She has never met Snoke, but when he is around, Kylo Ren talks about their Supreme Leader often. Enough it borderlines fanatical, his tone edging on the same type of fervor Hux has when he speaks about the Order, both their eyes taking on a particular gleam.

 _The Supreme Leader is wise. Trust the Supreme Leader. The Supreme Leader has told me-_ -

On and on and on, the drone of his low voice beginning to lull her. Not quite meditation material, but almost.

The downside of all this: because Kylo has an interest in her, _Snoke has an interest in her._

And though she has not met him, she knows she will recognize the sound of his voice immediately. The sibilant hiss of words she had heard whispered in her ear even before stepping foot onto the _Finalizer._ The sins of man slithering around in her head. His voice in her head that told her to _lie, cheat, steal, kill_ while still on Jakku to survive _._ Not the voice that kept her alive, but the one that reminded her there were even further ways to fall than where she already had.

The voice’s words the same creeping chill that runs up her spine now as she walks alone in the halls, always on guard as if she’s ready to be ambushed, though no one would ever dare now. Her robes are cut too close to Kylo’s, her tiny frame often wrapped Hux’s old greatcoat. These talismans protect her from everyone, everything.

Except _him._

Even these tokens cannot protect her from the gnawing darkness that follows her, beckoning to give in to its power and become greater than she could ever be. To fill her gaps and make her stronger so no man could ever break her mind or body again. All she has to do is bow in deference, surrender herself to the darkness to be protected forever.

And it knows about loss. Knows about Rey’s loss far too much for her liking.

 _What is loss to a god, dear child? Some memories? A limb? A vision? Favor? I ask for so little. Can give so much,_ the voice hisses in her ears, slithers around and wraps around her fear like a vice. _What is irreplaceable when you have true power to shape the galaxy as you see fit?_

 _That_ she does not know. Never had the answer to, not even before.

 

\--

 

The three of them are tucked snugly in his double bed, special exceptions for superior officers, even the unmarried ones. It's too big for one, too small for three. Paired off they are incomplete, jagged edges not quite filled all the way in.

Together they are _perfection._

She sneaks in and out of their resting minds like a spider, weaving pieces of them together in a web. Flits between the thoughts of the mundane, cycle-to-cycle monotony, to the more carnal. Then further down into the more treacherous. The sharp pit of their twin spirals, cyclones of desire, pulling her in like her spider’s prey. Stuck in the center of a sticky, snare-trap.

What Kylo desires is no secret, holds no deception to anyone bearing witness to it. He desires completion; perfection in the eyes of his master, fear in the hearts of others. Devotion. Love. He believes their trinity, their unholy union, will complete him. In his mind Hux and Rey live simultaneously as perfect beings, complete and whole, and yet able to transfer pieces of their better selves to him. They become three perfect vessels for power, to be wielded as his master sees fit.

What Hux desires is the opposite. Hidden so far down, he twitches minutely in his sleep as she searches for it. She digs and digs, fingers and teeth like razor blades, scraping sinew away from the meat. Finding where his deepest pit of desire is, not just the arms of the spiral other’s see.

What she finds is rank. Odorous in a way that something that has left to fester, to rot in the mind, is. It's a smell she's neither familiar with, nor fond of. She glimpses a brief tableau; flash of gold and white and red. Twin ebony obelisks flanking it, shadows tall and stretching on forever in the distance.

Then it vanishes. The barriers of his mind slam down like a fortress. Pale eyes snap open.

She waits for the reprimand that never comes.

Hux turns to her, profile painted chiaroscuro in the wan lighting of the viewport. He’s completely devoid of color. A ghost. His long fingers graze her cheek, tuck a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Foolish girl.” His voice is barely above a whisper.

He slides his bony hand down, fingers trailing her neck to rest lightly, spanning her collarbone and shoulder. He presses his thumb to her pulse, feeling it flutter like a caged bird. Then presses harder. He lingers only a moment, but feels like a lifetime for her as something heavy settles in the pit of her stomach, unnamed but recognized. Something that makes the blood in her veins sing, set fire. The type of thing she’d chase for them all. Something burning bright into the the darkness of space until it consumes her, leaving a pillar of ash in its wake.

She thinks of ashes like snow, of the broken glass shards. Things almost within her grasp. Things one tries to commit to memory, etch upon the very surface of their soul. Rey puts it there, on a shelf in her mind. Just barely in her grasp.

She tells herself it's someplace safe.

“My, my. You are restless tonight.”

She feels the staccato rhythm of his fingertips as he taps against her bare flesh, a contrast to the gentle cadence of his voice. His accented words are not as harsh at night, in their bed. Not as clipped as they are when he’s helming his ship, giving others orders.

“Yeah.”

It comes out more a mumble than a reply.

“I’m surprised we didn't wear you out,” he drawls.

And there it is, that sharp, vulpine grin he reserves just for her. He flashes it quick, the blade of a folding knife before it’s closed and pocketed. He looks at her through his eyelashes, their color near-invisible in the low light, runs a knuckle from her bare flank all the way up to her cheek.

“I don’t want to sleep. I don’t want to forget. Bren, I--” She stops when he places a finger to her lips, shushing her.

“I know. We’ll talk about it in the morning proper.”

He turns over and shuffles out of bed. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he stretches his lithe body like a felinix, back audibly cracking in the otherwise silent room. He's unabashed in his nakedness, muscles small and compact like hers, lean from a life of missing too many meals. Hers by force, his by choice.

(If Rey could, she’d eat as many portions as Unkar Plutt has stashed away in his stupid little shop in Niima. She’d eat until it felt like her belly would burst, just to feel the gnawing hollowness in her go away. Food or sex or something to fill the gaps and voids riddling her body and mind.)

Kylo snuffles, throwing an arm out in his sleep. The arm falls on her heavily, pinning Rey to the bed with him, but she doesn’t throw it off. He’s fast asleep, cradled in the rare moments of contentment only the deepest of slumber brings. He doesn’t always sleep like this, but since Rey has been with them Hux says it has been better. The dark circles under Kylo’s eyes still persist, but his hair-trigger temper has been blunted by the touch of their hands. Hux and Rey filling _his_ voids, his deep pits of need and unfocused rage he once had.

She wonders what fills Hux.

As he begins to start his day and Kylo pulls her closer to him, she feels torn which man she wants to follow. Hux into the wakefulness of the next cycle, or Kylo into a deep sleep. Both bring the promise of beautiful things, possible breakthroughs.

But both also bring the chance of dark nightmares she might not return from.

 

\--

 

In the end she chooses sleep, of course. The unreal is at least exactly that. Unreal.

When she wakes up, she does not remember her dreams, if she did dream. The bed is cold on either side of her, but she can hear the shower in the fresher going. The sound of water sluicing down twined bodies not enough to mask the groans emanating from both men, the carnal sound of the slap of wet skin against skin echoing through their quarters.

She wedges a hand between her too-hot thighs, her naked skin crawling with need. She rubs at the sensitive flesh almost violently, trying to time herself with the sounds of their pleasure, like falling in synch with the movements of a metronome. She remembers their names, reciting them in her head in between gasps. Their ranks. Where she is.

Her daily mantra.

She spreads herself out and reaches for them. Voyeuristic. But also not. She can feel their pleasure as they take it and an illicit thrill runs up her spine.

_Kylo Ren, master of the Knights of Ren._

Kylo’s buried to the hilt in Hux’s ass, teeth set into his shoulder, his nape. He shoves into Hux harder, pinning him against the shower wall. Like a specimen to be inspected, desire laid out for all to feel, for Rey to catch. To soak up like a greedy little sponge. Pleasure washes over her like the tides of an ocean she has no name for as Kylo repeats the motion and Hux comes rather violently. His hand is on his cock, milking ropey white spurts from himself that land on Kylo’s chest and thighs only to mix with the water, circle down the drain.

Kylo follows shortly after. Every last bit squeezed out of him, into Hux.

_Brendol Armitage Hux II, Grand Admiral of the Finalizer._

He groans as Kylo slips out of him and rests his forehead on Hux’s shoulder. Kylo’s hands are still gripping his ass hard enough he’ll be littered with bruises he’ll feel him every time he sits down for at least two cycles, if not more.

_Rey. No last name. Apprentice knight of Ren. Rey. I lived on Jakku when I was younger, salvaging scrap to trade to Unkar Plutt for portions. I lived in the shell of an AT-AT. I marked my days as scratches on a wall--_

Kylo turns Hux around quickly. Bends down and spreads his asscheeks, dripping hole on display before taking a long slow lick that leaves Hux trembling, spent cock twitching against the tile. He licks again and Rey forgets where she was, but it's okay. _Everything is okay_.

Two fingers buried inside of her to the knuckle, she climaxes with a loud shout. She puts her fingers to her lips, licks off the slippery wetness as a boneless Hux and smirking Kylo tumble out of the shower and onto the bed with her.

 

\--

 

Another cycle, more training. She’s not quite hidden in the upper deck of the hangar, as she looks down at the battalion of stormtroopers. She wonders if this was all Finn’s life was. Boring. Monotonous. Being reduced to a number, a place in line. Drill. March. Follow.

She can’t remember if he told her if there was more, if he had friends. If he played sabacc in his quarters when he wasn’t training. If there was more to his life than Rey’s has ever been.

The chrome of Phasma’s armor glints in the light and Rey licks her lips, thinking of the imposing woman. She’s gleaned bits and pieces about her from Hux, nothing too revealing, but enough to know she’s very human. A glimpse of blond hair cut similar to Hux. Eyes blue like an ocean. Even white teeth in a smile she hides behind her mask.

Rey holds her palm steady, fingers outstretched and begins to feel her way through the stormtrooper crowd below her. She finds what she assumes is Phasma’s consciousness, curls her fingers in and--

She feels stiff fabric brush her bare shoulder, drops her arm, concentration now broken. Phasma’s helmet snaps up in her direction, but then back down to her troops. She turns her head to find Hux at parade rest next to her, the white of the grand admiral’s tunic and cape almost blinding. A sharp contrast to the dull greys and blacks of her own knight garb.

His face is stony, eyes twin chips of ice. His stare bores right into her down to soul, even without the use of the Force. There’s a tremor in his jaw as he clenches his teeth.

“Control yourself,” he hisses. “I’ll not have you destroying the minds of my men out of mere curiosity.”

“I’m crazy,” she deadpans, giving him a bemused shrug.

“No, you're not.”

“I know what you call me on bad days.”

He grabs her arm hard enough to bruise, turning her so he towers over her. His upper lip curls in distaste, as he looks down at her. “This isn’t a game, _girl._ You stole something from me last night. You need to stop.”

_\-- hard and glittering like a gem. A thought. An idea. Gold and white and red, a crown. Twin ebony guards flanking it. Statues of obsidian, one short and one tall. The shadow of a throne. Massive, stretching on forever in the distance. The smell of rotting meat permeating the air. A decayed corpse at the feet of the checkered dias. The whole galaxy bending its knee to him to be cleansed of the rot, the decay--_

“I can take whatever I want,” she says, widening her stance and proudly parroting her master. Hux turns a brilliant shade of red she has yet to see color his cheeks in any situation other than orgasm.

 _“GIVE IT BACK,”_ he roars, loud enough it echoes in the hangar. Flecks of spittle hit her cheek, but she does not wipe it off. Her hands shake but she straightens her back, steels her spine in an imitation of the man in front of her. Looks up at him impassively, even with one arm in his crushing grip.

“No.” She whispers, tone more serious.

“You stole from me,” he says, as he lets her arm go. “You had no right.”

“It’s _beautiful_. I want to protect it while I can. You aren't.” She can feel the blood rushing back to her fingers, the phantom feeling of his grip still lingering.

“You can’t protect anything. Especially not _that.”_

His voice is a hard whisper, a warning. His eyes dart around as though he is expecting an ambush that does not come. Up where they are, they are alone. Only Phasma and her battalion of troopers beneath them. And yet for once, Hux look nervous.

It’s not a look he wears well.

“We all have to hide. Even if it’s in plain sight. _Do you understand?”_

She nods her head, twists the memory around. Malleable in its brevity. Hard like a gem in its vividness. Twists it around like a ring, like a promise. The future.

_Their future. His and hers, theirs and ours._

For not having an ounce of Force sensitivity, Hux is far too perceptive of her actions when he spits out his parting shot, a blaster bolt to the heart. Her heart.

“Don’t hold on to it too tightly, Rey. Or he’ll have Kylo strike us both down.”

 

\--

 

Hux is in meetings the rest of the day, explaining the fancy attire of earlier. She comms him repeatedly to apologize for earlier, but is only met with silence. Something he rarely does. They must be important meetings, _grand admiral meetings._

After having the power in his hands to rend apart systems, to turn millions to ash, being part of the slow moving cogs of military bureaucracy must chafe.

She does not envy Hux’s path to power.

 

\--

 

Though he has not yet called upon her today, she can feel her master’s Force signature in his rooms. Stillness, a peace radiating off him like in the morning. Sharp spikes of anger, lust, punctuate the lucidity.

Meditating, then.  

She watches the twinkling stars and twists the ring she’s made in her mind around her finger, pantomiming its existence in real life. She chooses the second finger of her left hand where the skin is smooth and unmarred as its place, imagines it there. The burn of the future set in gold and stone on her fingers like a firebrand on her soul. Flames licking at her skin.

_Come to me, little bird. Let me open your cage._

Her master’s voice echoes in her mind as she pulls up her hood and the door opens so she can exit Hux’s quarters. She travels the halls to his rooms, finally pressing her palm upon the cool surface of his doors that immediately open for her. She finds him shirtless, cross-legged on the floor of his main room, small trinkets and objects hovering around him.

“Strip,” he commands, eyes still shut.

She raises an eyebrow.

“Down to your training clothes,” He amends, as the objects settle down to the ground gently . She obeys and sits across from him, adopting the same pose. Crossing her legs, closing her eyes and opening her mind she lets the Force wash over her entire being until everything settles into place and all she feels is the warm pulse of his signature mingling with hers.

“Our grand admiral alerted me to your... behavior today.”

“And?” She cracks open her eyes.

“Were it anyone else, I would be impressed how enraged he was.” He finally opens his eyes. The look he gives her is not a kind one. He is not amused. “You forget your place.”

“I forget a lot of things, master.” She smiles cheekily, but the words hang heavy in the stillness of the room. Kylo is still scowling, barely tamed rage bubbling under the surface of his mind.

“Perhaps you need a reminder.”

It’s the only warning he gives before he’s there. In her head. Battering at her defenses, and it _hurts_. It hurts even more than the first time he did it, in the interrogation chair before she knew who he was, what he was capable of. She fights him tooth and nail, teeth sinking into flesh and fingernails scrabbling against skin, but still he does not relent.

She knows he is after what she took, the little ring on her finger sizzling against her skin as he searches and searches for what is right in front of him. And he’s mad at her. Furious. In ways she doesn’t think she has ever seen him directed at her. But also-- _pride?_ She feels the swell of his approval at the fight she puts up against him. The conflict of needing to punish her warring with the clever ways she has been crafting her powers under his tutelage.

“You grow in power,” He tells her, gritting his teeth and hitting her with a new wave of pain as he rifles through more of her memories. Deeper. Deeper. “But I’m stronger.”

The ring comes off, nearly dislocating her finger in the process. She snatches back her hand as he holds it in his palm, inspects it curiously like an insect. Then crushes it to nothing. Ashes. Dust. Negative space.

“I don’t think it was, but if your goal is betraying any of us... try harder next time, little bird. This is nothing compared to what our master can do.”

Her eyes flutter closed and room sways. Then, darkness.

 

\--

 

_Kylo and Hux have been looking for her for weeks, since their showdown and Starkiller’s crippling collapse. Kylo knows now she holds the key to their success, a new awakening in the Force. A pivotal turning point in their war. It was no coincidence she was the girl Ben stripped of her memories. Implanted new ones of her younger, of years of waiting for a family that would come for her one day. Left her on Jakku with a silent promise he would find her once his training was complete._

_He just never came back like he was supposed to. Hoped he could hide away the precious little padawan who adored him so he wouldn’t have to one day strike her down. Bury her power so far deep inside of her she would never find it, would live a harsh life, but one better than a short existence ending at the end of his blade buried in her chest._

_Now he is not so sure he made the right choice._

_Because when they find her-- all the locals point to where she is-- her downed shuttle sticking out of the sands like a sharp thorn, where she lives. A superstitious lot, they believe she brought a curse with her. A strange madness mimicking her own when slavers tried to take her, when men and women tried to sate themselves with her flesh. Staff in her hand, fabled relic clipped to her hip she does not draw, she fought like a wild animal._

_After the first few who tried, everyone else knew to leave her alone. Now they aren’t sure what to make of her other than let her float around their town like a wraith when she appears for supplies._

_When Kylo and Hux find her she’s covered in grime and looks exhausted, dark circles under her eyes. Her cheeks are sunken, and she’s bony in ways he never knew she could be. Bird-like, startled when she lifts her eyes and recognition flits on her face and then passes, like a feather in the wind. His runs his gloved fingers over the scratch marks on the wall of her shuttle. They note she’s been here since a month after the collapse of Starkiller._

_Kylo takes off his helmet. Rey hesitates, running a hand against Kylo’s face, tracing the scar she gave him. Her eyebrows scrunch in frustration, creasing as she screws up her face in concentration._

_“Ben?”_

_It’s a name he hasn’t heard in years. His eyes widen as Hux’s pale ones dart between them. He shakes his head slowly, a lock of hair falling into his face she smooths back. She bites her lip, a question almost spilling out of her mouth he’s not ready to answer. He can see her mind reach for the answers, just barely out of her grasp, as she shakes._

_She nearly collapses, but Hux quickly catches her as she falls backwards._

_“I’ve seen you before too. Your hair,” she says with a small smile, turning to Hux, who has picked her up and is now carrying her in his arms towards their shuttle. A pained look is plastered on his normally stern face. “It’s…_ bright.”

_Hux huffs, shoots him a venomous glare. “Ren, can’t you just--you know? That thing you do?”_

_He rolls his eyes at Hux._

_“Oh, you’ve a ship! A big ship,” she says, pressing her face to Hux’s shoulder. Her lips only scant millimeters away from the skin of his neck, though she doesn’t seem to notice. Her eyes are closed and she’s clearly picking her way through Hux’s mind for answers. “Very clean. Orderly. Well then, let’s go. I do miss space.”_

_Something swells in his chest at her complete and utter willingness to leave with them. Her head lolls against Hux’s shoulder. She murmurs something in his ear about space and spaceships, something Kylo can only catch snatches of._

_“Well I’d like to think so,” Hux replies primly, but with something almost akin to a grin tugging on the corner of his lips. “I designed it.”_

_She giggles, turns to Kylo. Her eyes are shining with delight. Both the parallels and striking differences to her first time aboard their ship are not lost on him, as Hux bridal-carries Rey across the sand, towards their shuttle._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for hanging in there folks. I promise I will finish what I started. FOR GRANDFATHER.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt #1: Dominant Rey; established relationship; fluffy kink is my jam! Kinkier the better, bit of pain, lots of sensual, but up to you, doesn't have to be sexual, but loving and kinky is the best!!
> 
> Prompt #2: Dark!Rey (bonus points if she's an imperial officer first before becoming a darkside force user) + Phasma. In-universe is preferred. Does not need to be smutty, can be fluffy or just friendly camaraderie if the receivers are not a fan of the ship.
> 
>  
> 
> like what you just read? for more smut, reylux and occasional angst, follow me on tumblr @ [purple-satan-fic](http://purple-satan-fic.tumblr.com/) !


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